He,Alone
by Amberssister
Summary: My take on th JANTO relationship, from Jack's p.o.v. Song-fic. My first one!


A/N: Sort of my version of how the J/I relationship unfolded. I wasn't going to add the lyrics, but I thought they fitted this pretty perfectly, and I've never done a song-fic before, so here it is. Reviews? I'm for them. Please dash one off and let me know what you think. Enjoy- Amberssister

_Sucker love is heaven sent_

_You pucker up, our passions spent_

_My hearts a tart, your body's rent_

_My body's broken; yours is bent._

Crush. Infatuation. Lust. Call it what you will, Jack enjoyed it. He liked the thrill of the chase, the flirting, the looks, and the tension. He loved the capture, the moment everything culminated in that first kiss, that first touch, that first moment of ecstasy. He wasn't so thrilled with the way people fell for him. He was the love of so many lives, and he couldn't love all of them back. Not the same way, at least.

Ianto always kissed him when they were thru, and Jack could feel the love beneath the hunger. Call it what you will, but don't call it that. Not love, not ever. Jack would kiss him back, though, and they'd lie holding each other, exhausted.

_Carve your name into my arm_

_Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed_

_Cause there's nothing else to do _

_Every me, and every you._

Ianto never made it awkward; he never said anything out loud. He seemed to understand instinctually that Jack needed to be put at ease. The first time he'd shown a glimmer of his real, humorous personality had been in the bedroom. Jack felt safe with him, even though he could tell it was costing Ianto, dearly. There was nothing for it though. Even if he let him go, Jack knew Ianto would likely find another person who'd take advantage of him. And on Jack's part, he'd find another person to take advantage of. At least with each other they knew where they stood. At least it never got messy between them.

_Sucker love, a box I choose_

_No other box I choose to use_

_Another love I would abuse_

_No circumstances could excuse._

There were other loves Jack had been able to return, but they never worked out well. One of them was always left heartbroken, either when Jack had to leave, or when his lover died. Usually he left. It was hard explaining why he barely aged or would never die, and when he did, his partner usually got bitter and resentful. It's difficult to be around someone who always has their looks and health while you're losing yours every minute. It was human nature, and Jack didn't blame them. He wasn't normal, wasn't _right_, and he left more often than not. That made him feel like a coward. He stuck to these relationships now, the ones where he could play around and not get too attached. These didn't make him feel much better.

_In the shape of things to come_

_Too much poison, come undone_

'_Cause there's nothing else to do _

_Every me and every you._

Sometimes the thought of eternity like this terrified him. Lying or losing, that's what it came down to. Living without love, _that's_ what it came down to. Crush. Infatuation. Lust. Call it what you will, Jack was addicted to it. At least it was something. Like all addictions, however, it was killing him. He'd never been the type to live like this. He'd never been the kind to live off the hurt of others. Things change, though, and here he was. When he broke under the weight of it, Ianto was always there. For some reason, Jack only snapped when his office boy could bear the brunt of it. There was nothing he could do, though. He'd always need a shoulder, and Ianto would always provide one.

_Sucker love is known to swing_

_Prone to cling and waste these things_

_Pucker up for heavens sake_

_There's never been so much at stake._

Jack had his pick of willing young… things. Men, women, friendly aliens, anything in between; if he wanted it he could have it. People fell for him. He was considered quite the catch, but he couldn't be caught. He slept around, but he always came back to Ianto's bed and Ianto's arms. He knew who Jack was, what Jack could do, and he didn't resent it. Ianto hated the way Jack played, but he didn't rail against Jack's immortality. He was grateful for it. He loved Jack unconditionally, but Jack couldn't really change. Old habits, and all of that. Still, when Jack needed to feel loved, or to _be_ loved, he came back to Ianto. It kept him sane. It kept him willing and able to die over and over, no matter how much it hurt.

_I serve my head up on a plate_

_It's only comfort calling late_

_Cause there's nothing else to do_

_Every me and every you._

After Tosh and Owen died, Jack saw Ianto change. He was colder, more withdrawn, and when it came to Ianto, that was more than troubling. Ianto didn't shatter easily, but when he did, he shattered hard. Jack gave himself to him. For the first few weeks they were never apart. Jack watched him closely, looking for the first sign of breakdown. Ianto had a history after all, and Jack owed it to him to be there if he went over. Jack slept with him, cooked for him, and held him when he cried. After the incident with Lisa, he was aware of just how alone Ianto really was. He wished he could change things; he wished he could have been more there for Ianto while he was going thru that hell. He could be there thru this one. It was all he could do. Ianto was a Torchwood employee; he would suffer until the day he died. Jack was used to suffering. He would be the anchor when Ianto drifted. It was the _least_ he could do.

_Like the naked leads the blind_

_I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind_

Sucker love I always find

_Someone to bruise and leave behind._

Jack was always in it for the flesh. Ianto wanted more. Ianto deserved more, but Jack could ignore that. In the end the contact was what mattered. So, when he brushed him off, when he made it abundantly clear that Ianto's comfort was only desired when it was it was naked, Jack justified it. They'd never promised each other a damned thing. They'd only been dabbling. Any tender words or tight embraces had been cold comfort and nothing more. It had been brought about by the situation, like his thing with John. If it hadn't been for the time loop, it would have been two weeks. It wasn't his fault if John refused to understand that, just as it wasn't his fault if Ianto expected more than Jack was willing to give. Jack knew he was a bastard to keep leading people on, but they were the ones who followed. No matter where he was, or whom he was with, someone always followed. Never as far as he could go, however, and never to where he could lead them.

_All alone in space and time_

_There's nothing here, but what here's mine_

_Something borrowed, something blue_

_Every me and every you._

Jack was alone in what he was and where he was going. There was no one else who could understand. He knew the potential and the history. He knew there was nothing after death but blackness. He felt lucky, in a way. He alone knew these things. He alone knew the horrors and the joys. And, he knew he wasn't alone. Ianto would always be there, and when he wasn't, Jack would have his memory. More and more he was beginning to think of Ianto as his. In the vast eternity that was his future and his past, Jack was starting to designate things as his own. He and Ianto would always be tied, a link to this time and this place, that belonged to Jack alone. There would always be other lovers for Jack, maybe for both of them, but if they belonged to each other there would always be something here to come back for.

"I love you." Ianto was surprised and he choked on his bagel. "Do you mean it?" he asked, and the blatant hope in his eyes almost broke Jack's heart. "You don't have to say it if you don't mean it." Jack smiled, and he had never been happier to tell someone the truth. "I mean it. How do you feel?" Ianto looked flustered. "I well, I… I love you, more than anything, Jack. You know that." Jack nodded and kissed his forehead. "Get back to work. There's a time and place for gushing." Ianto laughed, and Jack walked back to his office whistling. For the first time in awhile he felt good, he felt _right_. Jack sat at his desk and started his paperwork, and he didn't mind at all because, no matter how awful this time could be, he had something to come back for.

**A/N pt. 2 The** **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Torchwood belongs to the BBC and RTD. "Every You, Every Me" lyrics are the property of Placebo. I own a cheap laptop and an imagination, but they aren't paying the bills. I make no money off this; it's for entertainment purposes only. Actually, I could probably make more money if I spent less time doing stuff like this and more time working, so I'm actually negative funds.**


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